Day 7: Valencia

Mundane. This is how I would describe the day after 'that' night I had, the inevitable low after the roller coaster high. My day started with a journey back to the beach. It was a vain attempt at finding my lost items. The girls came in to the hostel earlier that morning with good news. The police have recovered their passports. No cash but at least they can get through airport security. 

I walked to the police station to make a report. Somewhere deep down I had hopes that maybe, just maybe the police might be able to locate my stuff. Those were really nice pants. After that it was straight to the beach again. I barely had enough sleep and was too worn out from last night's excitement to do much sight seeing.

Dinner was paella, the famous Valencian dish. I had it with a glass of mojito. A few metres away, an elderly man was swinging away on his saxophone belting out familiar jazz standards. These are moments while travelling alone that I absolutely love. No one else, just me and the rest of the city. I am nothing but a fly on the wall, observing people going about their daily lives.